Blue Moon, Crimson Blood
by Maurelle
Summary: Voltaire's your average highschool student until her friend sends her into a portal. Now she's stuck in the World of the Dark Jewels Trilogy. Will she get home? Will she want to go home?
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the OC. Warning: This is written as a story not a fic. So if you don't like it, deal. FYI: Reviews and even flames are welcome. BTW: I'm looking for an editor. The only thing I can offer in payment is all chapters early.  
  
Ch 1  
  
Voltaire looked at her friend disbelief etched in her face. It was cold, the middle of autumn in upstate New York. The multi-colored fall leaves crunched underfoot as they walked. Voltaire's platinum blonde hair, which she had streaked red as an act of defiance to her aunt, who she lived with, had escaped the braid she had put it in earlier. "I'm telling you, I've figured out how to open the gates to parallel worlds. Look if you don't believe me, come by after you finish your trig homework. I'll prove it to you," her friend Wayra was telling her. Voltaire sighed as they came to her boring looking patch of suburbia. "All right, I'll come. See you around eightish?" Voltaire said as she ran up the steps to where her aunt waited on the steps. Her aunt was a homely woman, with long burnished gold hair and laughing blue eyes. Today she wore a long skirt with a tropical looking top. She always had her own sense of style. Voltaire was used to it. She had lived with her aunt as long as she could remember. She didn't even have pictures of her parents. "Voltaire, darling, welcome back. I trust your day was uneventful? I'm glad the plans you made were after dinner. I fixed an excellent crab salad," her aunt told her cheerfully as she climbed onto the porch. "Yum. I've got trig, so I'll be in my room for a while," Voltaire said kissing her aunt's cheek before entering the house. She had a long night ahead.  
  
  
  
Voltaire groaned as she looked up at her reflection in the mirror on her vanity. She was pretty. There was no doubt about that. Her aunt often said she had her mother's silver eyes. Her lips were full and red, not the pout that most girls tried for. She also had the knack of being able to keep a tan despite the winter months spent inside. But that was not why she groaned. Silently she cursed herself for letting her friend Karla borrow her favorite lipstick. Voltaire had an undying crush on Wayra's older brother. So she always out herself through hell when she was going over to her house. At least she had her clothes in order. Tonight she wore a tasteful black sweater that clung nicely to her curves, a gray skirt that came only mid-thigh, and a pair of Gucci boots that came up clean to her knees. She added the final touch deciding that the lipstick was no big deal. It was a long silver chain that held an onyx pendant in the shape of a crescent moon. It was the last remaining thing she had of her mother. Hearing the beep of her alarm clock as it went off to tell her she had just enough time to make Wayra's house without being late, she grabbed her purse, and dashed down the stairs.  
  
  
  
Voltaire sat on Wayra's bed messing with the purse she had strapped to her side and watched as she light the candle's before her black altar in a special order. Voltaire wasn't really paying that much attention, because Wayra's brother Nick was helping. Nick had a steady girlfriend for over three years, but Voltaire felt that she could still hold out. He was cute in boyish sort of way, with brown cully hair, and light blue eyes. Suddenly the room went frigid. Voltaire shivered and wished she had brought a coat. She looked up over the top of the altar and her mouth formed a silent O. Above the altar a large black portal loomed. It didn't seem sinister, but seemed to pulse with something. She had the urge to walk up to it and touch it. She didn't know she was acting on the urge until Wayra put a stilling hand on her arm. "I don't know where it leads, dummy. If you were to just walk into it, I'd never be able to get you out again. Like I could remember the order I lit the candles," Wayra said rolling her eyes. Nick just shrugged. "Don't be stupid. I always remember the pattern.," Nick told them. He reached for one of his sister's pencils. Without warning he threw it through the portal. It disappeared, and Voltaire had the feeling it would never be seen again. "I can pull it right out." Nick reached his hand in and pulled it back out the pencil clasped firmly in one hand. He held it up to the light as though to study it. Waiting to get a better look, Voltaire moved so that her back was to the portal.  
"Nifty," Wayra said a smile on her lips. "Now give me back my pencil." Wayra said jumping to reach it. Her hand eye coordination bad, she missed and knocked into Voltaire, who ended up knocking into the altar, and right through the portal. 


	2. Ch 2

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the OC. Warning: This is written as a story not a fic. So if you don't like it, deal. FYI: Reviews and even flames are welcome. BTW: I'm looking for an editor. The only thing I can offer in payment is all chapters early.  
  
Ch2  
  
Voltaire had the distinct feeling that she was surrounded by wind. And darkness. The same darkness she had seen in the portal. She now realized she had seen it pulse with the wind. Feeling something underneath her, and the fact the wind had stopped, she opened her eyes and found herself staring into a pair of golden ones. She yelped and stood, cursing herself for wearing the damn stiletto heeled boots. "What is your name, rank, and jewel, and why have you come to Ebon Askavi?" he asked. He was well over six feet with black hair and, Lord, where those wings? Voltaire felt the floor tilt slightly underneath her. He seemed to be expecting something. Ah yes, now she remembered.  
"I'm Voltaire," she managed at last. He seemed puzzled.  
"Are you alright? Maybe I should get a healer," he asked grabbing her arm to keep her from meeting the floor. She jerked her arm out of his grip and eyed him coldly.  
"Well, how would you be, if your klutz of a friend sent you to an alternate dimension because she wanted her pencil back?" she snarled at him, rage over coming the shock. She wanted to kill something, anything. He gulped and looked at her. "Perhaps you'd like to speak to the queen? Since I know nothing about this," he snarled back, the gentleness gone from his face. Well that was fine with her. Like she needed some guy to take pity on her. She followed him as he walked down the hall.  
  
  
  
Voltaire sat across the room from a woman with dark exotic looking skin just like her own. Blonde hair was pulled away from her face and dazzling blues eyes looked down at her. At her feet was a large cat, some kind of leopard from what Voltaire had seen in zoos. On the woman's right a man sat. He was darkly handsome with dark finger nails that reminded her of a Goth. He watched her from hooded almost sleepy eyes, that made her want to shiver. She had just finished telling them her story. "Your tale is a fantastic one," the woman, Jaenelle, said. Voltaire sighed.  
"But?" Voltaire prodded. If they didn't believe her she'd not have access to the gate to get home. "I've only one way to see if it's true. I must weave a web. Do you have something I could use to weave it around?" Jaenelle asked her. Voltaire was now thoroughly confused. She had to provide her with something, even if she didn't know what was going to happen to it. She reached into her purse and felt them tense. She pulled out her favorite pen.  
"Will this work?" she asked handing the pen to Jaenelle. She handled it like a bomb. She stared at it and Voltaire felt a slight tug. Jaenelle looked up at her and shook her head.  
"I need something you use or wear almost all the time," she said. Voltaire's hand went to the necklace she was wearing. It was almost always on her neck. It had always felt right there. Would she give it up to go home?  
"Will I get it back?" At Jaenelle's nod she pulled it up over her head. The silence as Jaenelle examined it was almost deafening. Suddenly a ring sounded startling everyone.  
"Merciful night, what is that?" the guy from the portal asked. Voltaire blushed as she realized it was her cell phone. Who was calling her? Who in bloody blue blazes could reach her? She opened her bag and pulled the sleek little black phone out.  
"Hello?" Voltaire said her heart beating fast.  
"VOLTAIRE? It's Wayra. I'm not sure how long I can hold this connection," Wayra's voice was like heaven.  
"Wayra, you've fucking got to get me home. NOW! I'm pissed as is. Do you have any idea what this is putting me through? I've got people sitting here looking at me like I'm insane," Voltaire snarled into the phone feeling the rage at what her friend had done come full circle.  
"I'm so sorry. I don't know if I can. The portal left when you fell through. I can't remember the order and Nick fell through too. Damn it, Voltaire, I'm afraid I can't do much else. I'll tell…," whoever Wayra was going to tell was lost as the phone broke up. Voltaire looked at it as it read that the batteries were out. Snarling viciously she threw it as hard as she could against the far wall.  
"Fucking batteries! Damn it! That was my last connection home, and unless your hiding a charger in your shirt, it's beyond help," she snarled getting up and stalking around the room. She didn't care about the funny looks she was getting. Especially from the men. "This will work," Jaenelle said quietly. Voltaire felt her rage disappear as she turned toward her. "Thanks. Sorry about the outburst. I just kinda got frustrated about the whole thing," Voltaire said feeling self conscious about the whole thing. "Could I ask you something about that?" Jaenelle's voice was careful as though afraid she might trigger something.  
"Shoot," Voltaire said and then regretted it at the looks she got from them. "I mean go ahead." "What do you know about the power and the craft?" Jaenelle was watching her as she sank into the chair across from hers.  
"Not much. Only what Wayra, my friend, taught me. Why?" Voltaire asked a small suspicion nagging her. "No reason. Daemonar, see her to some rooms. See that she gets dinner if she's hungry. I've a web to weave," Jaenelle said dismissing them. She waited until the girl and Daemonar were gone before turning to her husband.  
"What was that about between you and Daemonar?" she asked messaging her temples. Just what she needed dropped in her lap. Daemon came around and started on the tension in her shoulders. "You didn't feel it?," at the shake of her head he continued, "She was riding the killing edge during whatever she was doing with that thing. Just like a Warlord Prince." 


	3. ch 3

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the OC. Warning: This is written as a story not a fic. So if you don't like it, deal. FYI: Reviews and even flames are welcome. BTW: I'm looking for an editor. The only thing I can offer in payment is all chapters early.  
  
TY to Ephona. I understand.  
  
Voltaire woke the next morning feeling groggy. Something wasn't right. Without thinking she reached for her mother's necklace and panicked when she realized it wasn't there. What had she done with it? Memory flooded her as she opened her eyes. She snarled as she threw the covers over the bed. The bed was large and her room had turned out to be a bedroom, bathroom, and sitting room. It was like staying at a suite. A suite she wanted to leave as soon as possible. She winced as her feet touched the cold marble floor. Hadn't these people discovered the wonders of wall to wall carpeting? She walked over to the wardrobe and was pleased to see that they had provided her with clothes. She didn't want to wander around this place in stiletto heels anymore than she had to. She pulled on a black dress and belted it with some silver rope. Looking at her reflection in the mirror she decided against doing anything with her streaked hair. Just as she was about to open the door, Daemonar did. She had learned his name last night in an attempt to learn anything about this place. He looked like he had run a triathlon by himself. She crossed her arms and waited.  
"Aunt Jaenelle requests your presence with breakfast," he told her. She rolled her eyes. "You mean she wants to speak with me about whether or not I can stay, and maybe have something to eat while she does it. I'm not stupid," she told him at the look on his face. He looked perplexed as he led her through a series of hallways to a small dining room. "Mornin'," Voltaire said as she headed to the well stocked bar on the side. She loaded her plate with a little of everything, even what she didn't recognize. Hell, she wasn't picky about her food. She sat herself across from the two of them like the night before and tucked in waiting for Jaenelle to start. "I weaved my web last night," Jaenelle paused and she nodded to say that she was listening. "It showed that you spoke the truth. I want you to stay here, within my court. I will teach you everything I know. You are strong with the power. You came to us wearing the black," Jaenelle told her like it was some kind of big deal. "What? You mean, you can't get black gems around here?" Voltaire asked as she finished inhaling her eggs. "No," Jaenelle said sounding puzzled. An idea seemed to cross her face as she looked at Voltaire. "Here jewels are a sign of power. The darker your jewel the more power you have. I checked, and the fact that you wear a black jeweled necklace, was no accident," Jaenelle told Voltaire. She looked at her in shock. Her? Powerful? How in the bloody blue blazes? Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of another man. He looked like an older clone of the man sitting next to Jaenelle. Daemon. That was his name. His eyebrows rose into his hair as he looked at her.  
"So, she's the one you made all that fuss about, Daemon?" he asked. Fuss? He made a fuss about her? She felt her famous temper begin to climb.  
"Excuse, me, but I do have a name, you know. Use it," she said venomously, losing what was left of her appetite. "Sorry, he failed to give me that piece of information. I'm Saetan," he said extending his hand. Voltaire took it cautiously. With a name like that is was hard not to be cautious.  
"Voltaire. I was just learning what you guys have for a hierarchy. It seems I'm stuck here until my friend decides to bail me out," Voltaire told him with a quick smile. He smiled back and produced a book from his pocket.  
"Here. It's a book on court procedure. It may seem a bit strange on paper, but it makes more sense in practice," he told her before turning and leaving. Voltaire studied the book with interest. Jaenelle looked up at Daemon, and sighed.  
"I advise you to get out to the training fields. Lucivar's vicious about his training. It maybe intense until he finds the right balance for you," Jaenelle told her. Voltaire looked down at the loose dress she was wearing. It was nothing to wear to fight. She had had some kick boxing lessons, and was pretty good with a bow. Sighing she rose. "Before I leave, may I ask something?" she asked feeling foolish. Jaenelle raised an eyebrow in response. "You say I'm powerful, and such. Well, what good is this power to me if I can't use it? Can you train me or something?" Voltaire asked in a rush. Jaenelle looked thoughtful. "Usually by your age, we've just about master whatever it is that you are going to know," at the look of disappointment on Voltaire's face she thought even more. "There is a way, I suppose, to teach you everything you need to know in an hour or so. Why don't you go to the practice field? I'm sure Daemonar will be happy to show you where it is," Jaenelle said a sneaky smile coming across her face.  
Voltaire nodded and left in Daemonar's wake. His long legs began to eat up ground much faster that hers. Snarling she glared at his back.  
"Would you slow down? It's not like there's a fire, for Christ's sake. We've got to stop at my room anyway. I need to find something to wear that won't get in my way," she growled as he slowed down and turned to look at her.  
"I've heard that before. When we get to your rooms, you'll seek out the balcony and escape. Not on my watch. If you want to go back to your rooms to change, you'll have to let me in," he snorted and looked at her arrogantly. She felt her temper flare, but hell would freeze over before she gave into his arrogant little ass.  
"Fine. Now can we hurry? I'd like to get this over and done with," she crossed her arms and glared at him evenly. She saw the oddest look cross his face before he began to lead her to her rooms.  
  
Thirty minutes later, Voltaire found herself in what she thought looked like a medieval guard training grounds. People sparred in pits and men moved through stance in others. She followed Daemonar to who she assumed was his father, for the man looked close to him. As he motioned for them to come to him, Voltaire climbed the fence glad she had found the tews and tunic the bottom of the wardrobe. Unfortunately, they were black, and she had a feeling they would become hotter than hell soon enough.  
"You're Voltaire. I'm Lucivar," he said offering her his hand. She took it in a firm grip as her aunt had taught her and smiled. "A pleasure. So you're the one that's going to whip me into shape," she had laughter in her voice and didn't notice the look that crossed his face when she said whip. "Why don't we start with an assessment? Do you have a favorite weapon?" he asked. Voltaire smiled outrageously.  
"My looks, but those don't really count. I'd have to say my hands and feet. I'm not half bad with a bow either," she admitted seeing the laughter in both their faces at her first comment.  
"Well, I'd like to see what you can do. Daemonar call time," he said slipping easily into a fighting stance. Voltaire did likewise, lightly on the balls over her feet. As he attacked she just barely moved out of his way. He's fast, she thought. She managed to land a few blows, but by the time, time was called Voltaire was more than glad. "You're pretty good," Lucivar told her taking a walk around the fence to cool down. Voltaire smiled and joined him. "Thanks. My aunt was big on self defense," she trailed off at the mention of her aunt. Would she be worrying about her? She could see her aunt sitting on the lunge by the phone waiting for her to call. Those sad eyes. "Are you alright?" Daemonar asked. He had come over and joined them. She felt her temper spike because she couldn't do anything about her aunt.  
"Oh, I'm just bloody brilliant," she hissed back at him earning an amused look from his father. "Are we done?" she asked him turning her temper on him. "Yes, now that I have an idea of how you perform, I'd like for you to start coming every morning like the rest of the court," he told her. Voltaire nodded curtly, feeling slightly rude. She climbed back over the fence, and walked back to the hall, glad that for once Daemonar wasn't following her. 


	4. ch 4

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the OC. Warning: This is written as a story not a fic. So if you don't like it, deal. FYI: Reviews and even flames are welcome. BTW: I'm looking for an editor. The only thing I can offer in payment is all chapters early.  
  
I'd like to shout out to my reviewers. Ty so much. I'll be updating as i write. Sry a/b the it being hard to read. I didn't realize it was doing that. (i'll fix when i have time)

Voltaire wondered at the footman who waited at the corner of each hallway. She had only to tell one of them that she wanted to talk to Jaenelle and when she reached the corner they would point her in the right direction. If only malls could have something like this. She had gotten used to meeting animals in the hall. They all had jewels so she assumed they had uncovered some way to talk with them. She grinned as she stood in front of a door. She knocked softly and was told to come in.

"I see Lucivar didn't bang you up too bad," Jaenelle said looking up from the paperwork she had in front of her. Voltaire smiled remembering some of the blows she had gotten in. "You should see him. You said you had some way to give me al this information I need. Can we do it now? I'd like to get it over with," Voltaire said feeling nervous. Jaenelle put her quill down and looked at her. "I have to warn you, it's kind of invasive. It's more a melding of minds, than a teaching. If you agree to it, I'll now everything about you, and you will me. We'll be weak afterward as well, so the rest of the day will be spent in bed," Jaenelle said watching her pace. Voltaire nodded.

"I'm going to be stuck here for god knows how long, I might as well," Voltaire said shrugging. Jaenelle smiled.

"I'll have to summon some of the boys. They don't like it when I do something like this without them," Jaenelle said like she was letting her in on some great conspiracy. Suddenly the door was opened by Daemon and Saetan.

"We were just in the neighborhood when you rang," Daemon said coming over and kissing Jaenelle.

"Hope you don't mind that you're stuck with me," Saetan said to Voltaire who smiled.

"Six of one, and half a dozen of the other, for me," Voltaire said shrugging. She felt kind of nervous at the idea of sharing her most intimate thoughts with someone she knew next to nothing about. She pushed the thought aside, deciding that Jaenelle probably felt the same. Jaenelle rose and motioned for them to follow her into another room. It looked like a sitting room. Voltaire smiled as she noticed the wall to wall carpeting.

"If you would move the furniture against the walls, my princes," Jaenelle asked sweetly. The men grudgingly moved them. Jaenelle sat cross legged on the floor, and Voltaire did the same just inches away from her.

"Jaenelle, you didn't say exactly what you were going to do," Saetan said seating himself in one of the chairs behind Voltaire so that Jaenelle had to look over her head.

"It's a variation of the power threads we use to communicate. I figured that if the kindred can use them to see inside the minds of their chosen humans, then we could use it too transfer information. I'm not sure exactly what will happen, but the theory is sound, and I am Witch," Jaenelle said waving away the two men's concerns before they could be voiced. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a ring. It was made of silver twisted to look like vines. A single black gem rested on it in the shape of a leaf. Voltaire thought that it was beautiful.

"Before I forget, I had this made last night. It's a ring of honor. Not the kind the men wear, though. I had a feeling you might end up within might court for a while, and couldn't deny you the place you would've had," She held the ring out to Voltaire who took it, and slipped it on. "I have to warn you, once it activates every male wearing a ring of honor will feel your emotions within a certain range. It also carries a ebon-gray shield that becomes active from fear, pain, or rage. You can also use it to speak with me or any of them at any range," Jaenelle warned her. Voltaire shrugged. She wore her emotions on her sleeve anyway. Jaenelle nodded and Voltaire felt the ring become hot and then suddenly cold.

"Now, to begin," Jaenelle brought her forehead in contact with Voltaire's. She felt a slight brush along her consciousness, and then heard Jaenelle's voice. Are you ready? Voltaire sent her assurance along the link, unsure of how to make a real reply. Suddenly the room was gone and there was nothing, but Jaenelle, only she couldn't be Jaenelle. Rising from her forehead was a pure white unicorn horn, her hands were claws, and her legs ended in hooves. Voltaire felt no fear or disgust at the sight, only amazement. Seeing the look in Jaenelle's eyes, she realized she was waiting for her to comment. You're amazing. Voltaire could feel her pleasure across the link.

Now I'm going to transfer my memories. This will be imprecise, but it will work. You will live all my memories in a very short time, and I all of yours. Jaenelle warned. Voltaire nodded, and suddenly the darkness that had surrounded them, became Briarwood, and Voltaire became Jaenelle.


	5. ch 5

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the OC. Warning: This is written as a story not a fic. So if you don't like it, deal. FYI: Reviews and even flames are welcome. BTW: I'm looking for an editor. The only thing I can offer in payment is all chapters early.  
  
She groaned in pain as she opened her eyes. She felt like she had lived a lifetime in the few hours it had taken to learn everything. She saw a pair of golden eyes looking down on her from an older face. Saetan, she thought, and another voice in her mind that was her too said, Papa.

"Voltaire?" he asked. _Yes_, she thought groggily, _that was her name_. With knowledge of her name she was able to return to herself. Without thinking she reached out to touch the silvery memories that seemed to float just out of reach. These were the things that she had learned. They seemed to whisper to her that they would be there when she needed them.

"I feel like death warmed over," she murmured and earned a chuckle from him. She grinned weakly at him.

"There's an expression I like," he told her lifting her to her feet. She swayed as the world tilted beneath her feet. She had just gained her footing when the door burst open and a very angry Daemonar stalked in.

"What in the name of Hell happened to her?" Daemonar growled making her headache worse. Before Saetan could answer she rounded on him.

"I just had a lifetime of learning crammed into about three hours. My whole body hurts, and I've a mean case of the munchies. Unless you want to become my snack I suggest you stop acting like my parent," Voltaire snarled her head in one hand. She barely noticed the fact she could sense his rage.

"Well, someone had better, because you seem to get into every kind of trouble imaginable," he snarled it just inches away from her face. Voltaire fought her need to punch his pretty face. He turned on heel and stalk out the way he had come.

"Welcome to the blood," Jaenelle mumbled from behind her, "Now I suggest we get to bed." Voltaire stumbled out into the hall her intention to do just that.  
  


Voltaire felt something warm and wet slide across her face. She mumbled something not very polite at whatever it was, and rolled over. She hurt all over from the mind melding thing. When it persisted, she opened her eyes and found herself staring into a pair of large hazel eyes. She yelped in panic, and felt the shields on her ring envelop her.

"What the fuck?" she yelled at the now abashed looking wolf. It whinnied and moved to the edge of her bed. Voltaire, feeling relieved it wasn't going to try to hurt her, was about to apologize, when five or six males, all warlords, came barging into her room. Pulling the sheets up around her neck, she had on some sheath of a thing that left nothing to the imagination, she snarled at them.

"What the hell are you doing in my room?" she ignored the amused glances she was getting from some of the males.

"You didn't think that ring of yours is just a fancy shield, did you? Your shields go up, we show up," Daemonar said sneering down at her. She glared hard at him, knowing he was riding the edge hard. She figured it was one of the functions of the ring.

"Well, you know that I'm not in danger, obviously, so why don't you all leave? And take the wolf with you," Voltaire had begun looking around from something to throw at their smiling faces.

"Oh, no. He's your problem. After all, he's just a lonely male looking for a friend," Daemonar said false sweetness oozing in his voice. She grabbed a candle holder and flung it at him as he closed the door behind him. After he was gone she glared at where the candle had hit the door.

"Rot in hell," Voltaire said to the door sticking her tongue out. She looked down at the canine at the foot of her bed. For the first time she noticed the sapphire jewel peaking out from his fur. This sparked one of Jaenelle's memories about the kindred. Now she understood that the wolf was only looking for someone to attach himself to. Sighing she moved closer to him.

"I'm sorry, puppy. You just scared the living daylights out of me," she murmured burying her hand in his black fur. She felt a slight brush across her consciousness, and opened to it the way she had learned from Jaenelle. I am Blackfury. The thought was deep like a man's voice. She smiled looking down at him.

"Oh, hell, now you'll be telling me that you're a Warlord Prince, and you've chosen me to protect and serve," she sighed heavily as he looked up at her with those purple puppy eyes. "Fine, whatever. Just let me get some sleep, will ya?" Blackfury ruffed happily and nestled into her lower back as she laid down. Resigned to her new companion, and deciding that this world couldn't get any stranger, Voltaire drifted off to sleep.  
  
Voltaire woke and stretched feeling refreshed. It had to be at least noon, but thankfully Lucivar had decided to let her sleep. She wasn't sure how she knew this, and she didn't think about it too hard. She started as the warmth at her back began to move. Remembering that it was just the young wolf she had taken in, she tossed the covers aside and stood up.

"Hey, puppy, since you're the only male in this place I'd trust in the room with me when I get dressed, can you help me pick out some clothes?" She said pushing open her wardrobe. She was still surprised that it was so well stocked. She knew from Jaenelle that the servants had scoured the hall in search of things to fit her on that first night. She silently sent them her thanks, and began pulling out dresses.  
  


She followed Blackfury into the dining room where the lunch buffet was out. She thanked whatever was watching over her that she hadn't missed it. She wasn't sure if she could of put up with a trip to the kitchen in the state of hunger she was in. She smiled friendly-like at the people who were staring at her in curiosity. She figured that was just from the dress. It was green cut low with a spider web like pattern across the front. She had found a pair of slippers in her size that matched the green. Her plate piled high with food she sat next to another woman with light gold hair and slightly pointed ears. Before she could say anything the other woman had her hand out.

"I'm Surreal," she said smiling. Voltaire gave her name, and a conversation started up. "I haven't seen you around before. Did you come in with the people at the fairs?" Voltaire blinked and quickly decided the truth was in order.

"I'm from a place called Upstate New York. I doubt you've heard of it, because it didn't even know this world existed until my friend knocked me through that damn portal," Voltaire said in a rush. Surreal smiled at her.

"That'd be funny if it wasn't true," Voltaire started at the bluntness. She knew from Jaenelle that this was normal, but it still took her aback. "Maybe I can be your guide while you're here," Surreal said making up for her bluntness earlier. Voltaire nodded.

"You can start by explaining why Daemonar seems to feel responsible for me," Voltaire voiced the concern that had been on her mind since the day before.

"Typical Warlord Prince. You are an unattached female of unsure rank. You have little to no understanding of court. In other words you were everything an unattached male looks for when finding a female to serve," Surreal told her. Voltaire blinked and looked at him as he came in drenched no doubt from training. He sent her a smile, she forced one back, and Blackfury, from his position on the floor growled.

"You can't be serious. I've no intention of setting up a court," her voice shook a little. He wanted to serve her? Surreal just grinned. To take her mind off him, she looked around the room. She noticed a nervous looking girl sitting quietly by herself with a large cat at her feet. "Who's that?"

"Her? That's Jaenelle's sister, Wilhelmina Benedict. Her parents and grandmother were killed in the purge. Her grandmother was the Queen of Chaillot, and since her death they've been trying to get her to come back. They even forced her out of her house in Scelt," Surreal said shaking her head. Voltaire felt pity for her. She knew what it was like to be pursued relentlessly.

"I'm going to go talk to her," Voltaire said rising. Surreal looked at her.

"Good luck. She's kind of shy," she said to Voltaire's back. She walked across the room, Blackfury behind her, and smiled at Wilhelmina.

"Can I sit with you?" she asked. Wilhelmina didn't look up from her plate as she nodded. Voltaire shrugged and sat. Deciding that is she wanted conversation she was going to have to make it, she began to talk.

"Everyone here is so nice. Well, except for Daemonar. It's like having an older brother you never wanted with none of the good qualities. He's got the bad ones down real good; over protective, over bearing, and public humiliation," the last earned a smile from Wilhelmina and a kind of half look from her cast down eyes.

"Last might he came barging into my room saying something about if I have any kind of thought about danger he'd show up. Please. He's forgetting that unlike most damsels in distress I can kick his ass," Wilhelmina giggled and looked up at her. "Did I mention my name was Voltaire?" Voltaire offered Wilhelmina her hand.

"I'm Wilhelmina Benedict. You name sounds so different. Where'd you get it?" her voice was soft and almost timid. Voltaire decided she'd become louder if given enough time, and encouragement.

"My mother was a big fan of philosophy. My name was the pen name for a French Marquis who wrote some not so popular work for the time. It's better than being named Bacon or Plato, I suppose. Course you don't know who any of these people are. The curse of being from another world," Voltaire finished with a sigh and look of depression. Wilhelmina smiled with sympathy.

"Don't worry. It's better than being stuck in a world were everyone knows almost everything about you and your family," Wilhelmina's voice was bitter. Voltaire as about to ask what she meant when Daemonar walked over.

"Hey, I just came over to apologize about last night. Males have some strong reactions to the ring," Daemonar said sitting next to her without bothering to ask.

"Apology excepted. Try to keep those reactions in check next time," Wilhelmina was watching them with interest. She didn't need the aid of her psychic scent to know that she was calculating how long it would take Daemonar to ask to serve her. Blackfury nosed his way in the conversation.

She is mine, human. She has excepted me. A low growl issued from his throat, but it was nothing next to the growl that came from Voltaire.  
"No one _owns_ me! How dare you imply that," Voltaire's voice was a low hiss that had the Arcerian at Wilhelmina's feet looking up. Blackfury meanwhile was completely ignoring her. It appeared that Daemonar and he were having a staring contest, but she knew that they were really sizing each other up for a fight. Burying her hand in his hackles she gripped hard and shook knowing her nails were digging in.

"Lay off! Do you here me, Blackfury?! I said LAY OFF!" she shook him until he turned around and looked at her abashed.

I'm sorry, my lady. I only wish to keep my position with you. His thoughts were so sad that she felt bad for having done that to him.

"There's more than enough of me to go around," she told him becoming aware for the first time that everyone had stopped what they were doing to watch. She felt her face go crimson. She had been so intent on the two of them she had even forgotten Wilhelmina. Jaenelle and Daemon arrived in the doorway. Jaenelle took one look around seemed to understand what had gone on. She cleared her throat loudly, and everyone jumped.

"Well? I think we came to eat lunch, not stare at new members of court," Jaenelle said getting a plate. Voltaire was silently thankful for her arrival, even though she knew that she would be called to her office to tell her what had happened. After everyone had gone back to what they were doing, Voltaire released the breath she wasn't aware she'd been holding.

"So what do you guys do around here for fun?" Voltaire asked and got a grin from Daemonar. Wilhelmina shook her head.

"Men like Daemonar go around training all day for 'fun.' Anyone with a lick of sense goes to the library. It's huge, and well stocked," Wilhelmina told her.

"Nifty," seeing there blank looks she blushed, "I mean interesting. I'd like to go see this." Wilhelmina nodded and rose, the Arcerian rising with her. "Aren't you going to introduce me to the tiger?" Voltaire asked.

I'm not a tiger. I am an Arcerian. My name is KaeAskavi. He bowed his head a little in respect. She gave her name, and followed them to the hall library.  
  
a/n: I know KaeAskavi already has a human, but there's a story behind that, that may or may not come out. I'll have to see how the story weaves.


	6. ch 6

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the OC. Warning: This is written as a story not a fic. So if you don't like it, deal. FYI: Reviews and even flames are welcome. BTW: I'm looking for an editor. The only thing I can offer in payment is all chapters early.  
  
The library proved to be at least as large as the one in New York City that Voltaire had visited in a day trip. It was three stories above ground and more below. Wilhelmina had left her saying that she had some research of her own to finish. That was fine with her, because her intention was to just look around and see if she could find anything on portals or other worlds. She rounded one of the shelves and came face to face with an orange tabby cat. It looked up at her with deep blue eyes from where it was laying on a stack of papers. It's tail flicked as it raised it's head.

Are you lost? The cat asked yawning. Voltaire shrugged. She decided to play with the cat a little bit. Cats had always picked on her back home.

"Depends. If you're asking if I know where I am, then yes, I am lost. If you are asking if I am aware of where I am, then no," she was rewarded with what she could only assume was a laugh. It was a seeming cross between a hiss and a purr.

I like you. My name is Lavar. The cat stretched and displayed his claws. You are almost as fun as Saetan. He is very amusing.

"Really? Does he come to the library a lot?" Voltaire was curious now. She knew that she could ask Jaenelle's memories, and they would tell her, but she liked the idea of finding out her self.

"I work here," Saetan said from behind her making Voltaire jump and curse.

"Sorry. I…," she trailed off at a loss to explain what she was doing.

"It's fine. Lavar tends to do things like that. Sometimes I wonder what came over me when I agreed to have him here.," Saetan shook his head. "Was there something specific you were looking for?"

"Yes. I want every book you have on either portals or theories on other worlds, if it's not too much trouble," Voltaire said smiling. She'd have plenty of reading if what she thought was correct. And if there was one thing she could do it was read.  
  
Four hours, and about twelve stacks of books later, Voltaire decreed that she was done for the day. She now felt like she knew more about portals than anyone in the Realms. She looked up over the dusty tome and was startled to find herself looking at KaeAskavi. She closed the tome, and tilted her head searching for Blackfury's psychic scent. She found him not far away badgering Saetan about something.

Dinner is soon. Lady Wilhelmina does not wish for you to be late. He told her bowing his large head. She itched so bad to bury her hands in his fur, but she knew that would not be proper. She stood from where she had been sitting on the ground. Carefully she dusted her skirts, and sent Blackfury a message that she was leaving.

"Thank you KaeAskavi. Blackfury is coming s I should be able to find my way to my rooms. Is there anything else?" She noticed his reluctance to leave. His tail swished to show his nerves, like all cats it was almost a totally independent being.

I do not wish to betray my lady… his voice trailed off and he avoided looking at her eyes.

"But?" Voltaire said nudging him on.

She neglects her duty to her people. She is the heir to Chaillot, and they have had no queen for longer than 3 moons since the purge. I do not know how to get her to return to her people. His metal voice carried the low growl in his throat. Voltaire sighed. She hoped she would have to fix everyone's problems.

"I'll keep that in mind. I'm sure I can come up with something," she told him as Blackfury came around the corner. He nodded and walked off leaving Blackfury very confused. "Don't worry, puppy. Everything is ok. I just need you to help me find an evening gown that'll have Daemonar gibbering." She laughed as he snorted. He didn't like the idea of having to share Voltaire with Daemonar, but he saw no way around it.  
  
Voltaire took a deep breath as she stood outside the door to the large dinning room they used in the evenings. Saetan had made diner formal, which meant each member of court was to be announced as they came in. She didn't know how everyone was going to react to an unranked impoverished witch sharing dinner with them.

She knotted her hands in the black silk of her dress when it was her turn. The doorman smiled at her, or rather, she thought at her dress. It was cut ungodly low even for her. She left that if she had to lean over during dinner she'd probably just fall right out. It was off shoulder as well so her tan was clearly visible. Her mother's necklace rested deep in her cleavage, and rose with each breath she took. She had crimped her hair so that it looked like she had had it up in braids for hours.

"Witch Voltaire," she winced as her name was called. She had heard so many elaborate titles that her own was so gallingly simple it hurt. As the doors were opened for her she deliberately lifted her chin and straightened her spine. She ignored the court's murmurs as she took her seat next to Daemonar, some thing she had asked the lead server to do. She smiled at him and looked at him from beneath her lashes.

"How was the rest of your day?" he asked pouring himself more wine. She held her glass out to him and smiled.

"Amazingly educating. I think I know more about the theory behind portals than anyone alive," she sighed and pouted her lips thoughtfully watching his reaction. "Unfortunately, I think I'm stuck here. None of them mention a way of tracing where a portal goes, and those that come close label it an impossibility." She let her index finger trace the rim of her glass. "Enough about me. Tell me about your day, Daemonar." She let his name roll off her tongue. She liked the way it felt.

Just as he was about to answer Wilhelmina sat next her, looking a little worse for wear, with a piece of folded paper in her hand. She seemed to have forgotten it was even there. Voltaire dropped the flirtatious manner she had taken on, and looked at her friend in concern.

"Wilhelmina, are you alright?" she asked ignoring the outrageous looks she got from the men for pouring her wine. She handed the glass to Wilhelmina who chugged it.

"More," she croaked out, and Voltaire poured worried about her.

"What happened?" Voltaire asked as the first of the courses was served. Wilhelmina handed her the little paper as she poured herself another glass, clearly intent on becoming as drunk as possible. She unfolded the paper and read:  
  
_Lady Wilhelmina,  
We implore you to return to Chaillot. The crop this year was the worse we've had since the purge, and we fear it we only get worse. Our latest queen, your distance cousin Riona, has fallen to the sickness of the land. Please return, if only long enough for us to heal the land. Thousands are dying from the famine, and we have no more money to pay for the aid of other kingdoms.  
  
Tamuli Demille_

_ Steward of Chaillot  
_  
Voltaire downed her glass of wine. This was not good news. She was just an outsider in this issue, she could not imagine how Wilhelmina must feel. But why did Wilhelmina not go home? If only long enough for them to pick a new queen? Had that place scared her some much that the mere thought of return was worth thousands of lives? Thousands? Now she understood what KaeAskavi was trying to tell her. But how could she help? How?  
  
The rest of the meal passed quietly, with only the occasional comment thrown her way. Mostly it was Daemonar trying to find out what had been in his aunt's letter. As everyone rose to do whatever it was they did after dinner, she grabbed the now very drunk Wilhelmina, and steered her towards the courtyard. It was softly lit with witch light, making it easier to navigate her to a secluded bench.

"Did you see the way Daemonar looks at you? It's outrageous. I would kill to have a man look at me like that, let alone a Warlord Prince," Wilhelmina stopped here to giggle outrageously. At least she's not an angry drunk, Voltaire thought rolling her eyes.

"Wilhelmina, why won't you return home? People are dying," Voltaire asked wishing to god that she could be as drunk as her friend. Wilhelmina's eyes hardened.

"You're going to be just like them aren't you?" her voice sounded bitter. "Go home, Wilhelmina. Your people need you, Wilhelmina," her voice went high in an impression of Jaenelle. "She's doesn't have to go home. She can stay here. She doesn't have to face the memories of what it was like there. She doesn't have to confront the knowing eyes that follow you everywhere. The whispers in the halls. The fear that you could be just like your mother. No, she just gets to sit her in her court, surrounded by people loyal to her. People who would die for her," tears had started to run down her face. Voltaire took the end of her overly long sleeve and wiped them away gently.

"But you're not alone, Wilhelmina. I'm here, and how cares what they think. I know you're not like your mother, or grandmother. You're you, and no one else. You've gained the loyalty of at least two Arcerians, the respect of not only Saetan, but Lucivar. You're far greater than you give yourself credit for," Wilhelmina had fallen into Voltaire's arms where she cried softly. Voltaire didn't know how long they stayed like that before Wilhelmina had stopped crying.

"Will you come with me, Voltaire? And bring Blackfury and KaeAskavi?" Wilhelmina's voice was hoarse from crying. Her eyes were slightly puffy, and her lips swollen.

"Of course, but I'll have to check with Jaenelle," Voltaire felt the breath rush out of her as Wilhelmina hugged her.

"Thank you so much, Voltaire. I don't know how'd I come up with the courage to go home without you," Wilhelmina said letting go. KaeAskavi appeared from the shrubbery around them, and Voltaire wondered how long he had been there. Wilhelmina stood, and grasped his fur, as he led her back to her rooms.

"I sure wouldn't want to be her in the morning," Voltaire mumbled to the night air. Daemonar walked out of the shadows and came to sit next to her.

"Afraid she'll regret it?" he asked looking at where she had been. Voltaire shook her head.

"Naw. She's just gonna have one killer hangover. How long were you and KaeAskavi watching?" she asked turning to look at him.

"Long enough. So you're really going to go with her into some unknown court?" he asked her. She just shrugged.

"What's the difference? I don't know this one any better, and it'll help Wilhelmina. I always help those I care about," Voltaire told him. She decided that he wasn't hard to look at. He wore a black shirt and pants embroidered with little pearls down to his shiny black boots. She smirked as she realized she could almost she his muscles underneath his shirt.

"What?" he asked realizing she was studying him. She reached up and traced the beginning of stubble along his chin.

"We match," she whispered. He grinned and took her hand in his. He grinned down at her.

"I could've told you that the moment you came out of that Dark Altar," his voice was deep and washed over her like molten silver. She let out a small chuckle, and moved closer.

"I bet you tell every woman that," she placed a finger over his lips to stop his reply, and quickly followed it with her lips. At first the kiss was light, just lips touching lips, but then he brought his down on her with the full force of his hunger. She gave back as much as he gave, and gently parted his lips with her tongue. They explored each other's mouth until they both had to come up for air. Voltaire laid her head on his chest, and let him hold her.

"Guess you'll be coming too?" she purred into his chest. She couldn't see his smile, but felt it nonetheless.

"Guess so," he said kissing the top of her head.  
  
A/n: Whew! Lots happened in this chapter. Wilhelmina is returning home, and Daemonar has finally told voltaire how he feels.violins playing in the background Neway, i'm sry, but i may not update nemore for this week. I've got mid-terms, and club meetings, and such. If i go more than a week, someone should send me a nasty eamil to remind me(or i may not remember that i was even writing this story.) so ttfn!


	7. ch 7

a/n: dodges rotten fruit thrown at her for not posting Sorry! Lot's has been going on. Yes, i reposted this chapter. It wasn't finished to begin w, and so i finished it. It'll be posted more regularly, I promise!

Just as Voltaire had reached her room, a footman tapped her on the shoulder. She turned, and pasted a smile on her face. In spite of the fact that she had slept until noon, she was exhausted. The footman bowed his head, a rose jewel just visible on his lapel. "I'm sorry to disturb you, lady, but you are requested before the Dark Throne," the footman never looked at her as he spoke, respect as taught in the courts of Terreille before the purge so deeply ingrained. Voltaire nodded dumbly as she followed him back down the hall.

Voltaire followed him to the half-familiar Keep. She shivered as she examined the painful silvery thread of memory that arose form Jaenelle. It was the memory of Alexandra's breaking. Jaenelle associated so much pain with the memory that Voltaire wondered how she could even return to the throne at all. More than that, she wondered how anyone could say or do that to Jaenelle. To Witch.  
The footman stopped at the top pf the dark stairs, and handed her a lit torch. She felt butterflies the size of elephants flutter around in her stomach, as she began the decent. It was deathly quiet as walked, her slippers making not even a whisper. The sight of the black double doors was almost a physical relief. She absent placed the torch in the holder in the wall next to the doors. Gently she pushed one of the doors open enough so that she could slip inside. The door closed noiseless behind her. As she walked forward torches along the walls lit with witch light to illuminate the room. She stopped before the dais, realizing that the Blackwood chair was empty. She began to look around for any sign of Jaenelle. Surely, Jaenelle had summoned her. She noticed how the eyes of the silver-gold dragon followed her. They were so deep black she felt like she could almost fall into them.

_You are Voltaire_? His metal voice was huge in her mind. It seemed like one vast consciousness was crowding into her own. It awed her. It terrified her. She took a ragged breath to steady herself, and set up the slight shields that second nature to most of the Blood.

"I am," she managed looking for a place to sit. She felt slightly lightheaded. The dragon's tail snaked around behind her. It was just the right height for her to sit on. "You called me here, not Janelle." The great head nodded as he watched her.

_Yes. I have mush to tell you concerning your trip to Chaillot. I fear, that while Jaenelle was able to remove the tainted Blood, the ones broken back to basic Craft, may have begun to corrupt this new Blood_. His voice was heavy with a sigh his face was not made to give voice to.

"I will be on guard," when the dragon made no move to dismiss her, she wondered aloud. "You have something else to tell me." Those great midnight eyes blinked as he looked down at her.

_You are not like other witches_. Voltaire laughed as he told her something she already knew. _Not as you think. You are the first of the new Blood. The Blood where gender does not determine rank. You are the first female Warlord Princess._ Voltaire shook her head.

"You are joking, right? Me a Warlord anything? In a dream maybe," Voltaire told him. Those great eyes just looked calmly down at her. _It is your rank. Daemonar and Daemon know. They were in the room when you reached the killing edge while speaking to your friend. They felt it, and had to clamp down on their own reactions. You cannot deny what you are, any more than Jaenelle can deny the fact that she is Witch_. Voltaire rankled with her disbelief, but she knew the dragon spoke the truth. Dragons were the ones that had created the Blood afterall. The dragon was clearly done with her for now, as he lifted his tail gently so she could stand. She nodded to him, and left the chamber.

Voltaire woke the next morning to someone dragging her out of bed. Her defenses kicked in and she kicked him in the groin. Still half-asleep she planted her knee in his face were he was doubling over. His groan of pain along with the blood soaking her gown brought her to alertness.  
"Oh, my God! Lucivar I'm so sorry," she said kneeling down next to him. She pulled his face up so she could look at him. Blood was streaming freely from his nose. Without thinking she summoned a washcloth from the bathroom and handed it to him. He took it wordlessly. She was just about to open her mouth to apologize again when she felt the message along an ebony-gray spear.  
_Voltaire? Are you alright? Father says he's in your room…_ Daemonar's voice made her smile. The ring of honor, of course. They all would've felt Lucivar's pain, and asked him if he was ok and where he was. It was touching that Daemonar would ask after her.

_I'm fine. I'm afraid I got your father good_. She sent him her amusement. Lucivar was sitting on the floor next to her bed grinning like a madman. She rolled her eyes at him and looked around the room for Blackfury. It was just after dawn, meaning she had most likely gotten three or for hours of sleep. She groaned as she realized this.

"What do you think is so funny?" she asked Lucivar crawling onto her bed. The bleeding had stopped and he was wiping up the little bit he had gotten on the marble floors.

"I think that's the first time I've ever gone to wake someone for practice and had them pummel me in their sleep. Where'd you learn to do that?" he asked. She sighed as she looked at him.

"My aunt was big on self-defense. When someone tries to drag you anywhere in my world it means they're trying to kidnap you." None of the bitterness from before was there as she said this. It hurt to realize she would never see her aunt again, but she felt that she had to move on. These people were her friends and family now.

"I would love to meet this aunt of yours," he said shaking his head. He noticed the large rings around her eyes and studied her sharply. "You haven't gotten much sleep." He told her. Voltaire felt like punching him again. Why did he feel the need to state the obvious?

"Your right. I got called to see the dragon. Lorn, right? He wants me to go with Wilhelmina to Chaillot," she groaned as she realized all the work that was going to lead up to this trip. "And I have to go see Jaenelle about it. I know she wants to see me about that incident involving Daemonar and Blackfury." Lucivar nodded.

"Seeing as how you reacted to me trying to wake you up, I can dismiss you from the training today. Do you think you could teach that little move to the other Ladies?" Lucivar asked rising. Voltaire nodded, and headed over to the wardrobe.

"Sure thing," she said wondering where Blackfury had gotten to. That wolf was annoying as hell, but when he was gone she missed him. She opened their link to find herself sinking fangs into his latest kill. She closed it quickly, pleased he chose to do that when she wasn't awake. She pursed her lips as she stared into the wardrobe. What on earth was she going to wear?

Ú

She sat in Jaenelle's library sipping tea. She had settled on a deep red tunic and black pants. She was still working on washing the dye out of her hair. Jaenelle was seated across from her, her usual long black dress causing her to seem more dignified then she was.

"To business. About Blackfury and Daemonar, I assume you've managed to get them under control? Their both a little crazy," Jaenelle grinned at the disgusted looked on Voltaire's face.

"Tell me about it. Daemonar claims he's coming with Wilhelmina and me to Chaillot. He forgets he's a member of your court. He has to ask your permission. I'm not, I can come and go as I please. I chose to go with her because I believe in her," Voltaire said shaking her head.

"It's nice to know someone believes in her. She doesn't believe in herself. She could be a good Queen, and save her people, but she's so afraid. Afraid of repeating her grandmother's mistakes. I'm surprised she listened to you," Jaenelle said. She looked depressed and older than her years. Voltaire gave her a small smile.

"She listened, because she knew I was being honest. I have no bias. I think I will enjoy going. As much as I'm enjoying my stay in your court, I think hers is where I belong. She needs someone to remind her that she is from a powerful line. A line that produced Witch," Voltaire grinned at the last words, a found a matching one on Jaenelle's face. Jaenelle waved her hand to dismiss her. "You both have my blessing. Just try not to get her killed," Jaenelle said to the retreating back of Voltaire. Voltaire shook her head and called over her shoulder, "No promises."

Ú


	8. ch 8

Maurelle: Hey everyone. I'm aware it's been some time since I last updated this, but school and Sunday Morning have been taking up alot of my time. I'd like to thank Gothicvamp, Anyashojo, Epona, and Chicita. Without their badgeringyou wouldn't have a chapter.Sohere's the next chapter.

Voltaire watched as the last of her trunks was hauled into the Carriage. She had accumulated a lot of junk and clothes in the three weeks since she had arrived. The clothes had been a gift from Jaenelle. She said she didn't want her going to a foreign court without the proper attire. She was wearing one of the new outfits now. A pair of sleek tight pants, and soft leather tunic with fur around to collar, and a pair of turndown boots. She had no intention of having this court think her a normal female. No, she had her mission: to find the last infections in the Blood, and wipe them out.

Why must you bring so much? Surely hunting is plentiful where we are going. Blackfury asked curious. She sighed. That was a good question. Why did people have so much stuff?

"Hunting will be good, pup, but we don't have fur coats to keep us warm, so we bring clothes," she explained. Wilhelmina still hadn't showed, though all her things had been loaded in earlier. Voltaire hoped she wasn't getting cold feet. Blackfury just nodded and eyed the blankets on the floor. He and KaeAskavi would be sharing them for the entire eight hour trip. He found himself questioning the sanity of the women he had chosen to serve. That long without moving?

"Where's Wilhelmina?" Daemonar asked. Voltaire smiled as she looked at the simple bag he had in his hands. He looked excellent in the green tunic, and buckskin pants he wore. His big black boots were polished to the point that Voltaire could she herself in them.

"Probably in her room. She'll be here. If she isn't I'll kick her ass for making me get up at four in the morning so I could leave at dawn," Voltaire said smirking. She had no intention of doing any such thing.

That will not be necessary, Lady Voltaire. KaeAskavi told them as he and Wilhelmina came into view. Voltaire grinned and waved.

"Nervous?" Voltaire asked hugging her friend in greeting. Wilhelmina looked down at her hands. She was wearing a sapphire dress, the collar a V, with soft gold scrollwork on the hem and cuffs. She looked quite lovely.

"A little. Ask me again when we get there. Are you sure that this is the right thing to do? I can never be their queen, or the one they need," Wilhelmina sighed. Voltaire just grinned.

"Don't worry. Letting them die or get taken over by others isn't the right thing either. Sometimes we have to do things that may not at first seem right. As to whether or not you should be queen, you need to at least see if there is someone who could take your place. That's what we're going to do," Voltaire told her friend as she walked into the carriage.

Ú

Eight hours, two fights between Daemonar and Blackfury (mostly over who got to sit next to Voltaire), and one I'm not going to do this fight from Wilhelmina later, they arrived at Chaillot. They were lucky that the carriage was big enough to do last minute wardrobe checks. Daemonar thought they were being silly. Well, he wasn't trying to impress a court who had nothing left but ritual and glitter. Finally, they deemed themselves presentable and opened the door. Daemonar was the first out as protocol required, gently helping Wilhelmina down the steps. He gently gave Voltaire his other hand.

The gasps as she stood next to him were loud. She was aware from Jaenelle's memories that this court was arrogant and set into their ways. The change that Voltaire represented was not going to be well received. She ignored them and moved so the Kindred could exit. She was aware of the suspicion that the nobles of this court would have. They saw the Kindred as Blood eating monsters. She squared her shoulders. Well, that was one more thing they would have to used to.

"Milady," the elderly steward of court said leaning over to kiss Wilhelmina's hand. He was ancient looking and Voltaire wondered just how old he was. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she thought of the reaction he would have to her asking. Minna inclined her head in respect and turned to the other members of her greeting party. These were the nobles that made up the last Queen's inner circle.

"Milady, this is Rylina. She is your very distant cousin," he motioned toward a small woman. She was petite, with long curling hair the color of fresh blood. Her green eyes reminded Voltaire of a caged panther. Power and bloodlust barely in check. The others stood away from her. It was almost as if her aura shielded her from them. The smile she gave Wilhelmina was a sharp contrast to her eyes. The large opal on the gold chain seemed out of place.

"Milady, it's quite a pleasure to meet you at last," her voice dripped honey, and put all of the others on edge. Wilhelmina, however, did not seem to notice. Voltaire suddenly understood what Jaenelle had meant when she said to keep Wilhelmina out of trouble. The other lords and ladies were introduced, none of them making an impact of even half that of Rylina.

They were shown to their rooms, Daemonar and her own on either side of Wilhelmina. This was so that they could reach her at all times. Voltaire dismissed the young servant they had sent to unpack her things. She could do it herself. Besides, there was truth to that old cliché, if you want something done right do it yourself.

Voltaire, I do not like this place. It is cold, and smells of corruption. Blackfury whined watching her place her dressed into the wardrobe. Voltaire sighed. She should've know that the Kindred would pick up on the lingering scent.

"I don't either. That Rylina gives me the creeps. But we can't leave. We have to track down that smell of corruption and stamp it out," Voltaire said her back to him. She was startled as strong arms wrapped themselves around her waist. She turned ready to let whoever it was have it, when she noticed it was Daemonar.

"Do I get to help? That seems like an offal big job for just one witch and her Kindred," Daemonar said grinning. Voltaire gave him a playful slap.

"Maybe if you're good," she said breaking out of his embrace to finish packing. He sat on the end of her bed watching the way she swayed as she walked.

"Volt, I don't know if you're ready for this court," he began clearly expected a fight. She gently closed the wardrobe and turned to face him.

"Really? Why is that?" her voice was low. She was mad, but determined to keep her temper. He might have something important to say.

"This place is nothing like the courts you and even Jaenelle are used to. Jaenelle didn't even stay here long, getting sent away to Briarwood. This place is seething with intrigue. I just don't want you to get hurt," he moved so that his arms were around her shoulders.

I hate to agree with him, but he speaks to the truth. You call me a pup, yet in comparison with these people you are the puppy. Blackfury looked up at her.

"Then I'll just have to learn. I'm not going to leave Wilhelmina here to drown in it. I'm the only lifeline she's got, and if I have to go to hell and back to help her I will," Voltaire said determined. She kissed Daemonar on the cheek and turned to Blackfury. "Your concern is touching, but I have an hour to make myself presentable for tonight's feast, so out," she pointed looking at Daemonar. He pouted, but left.


	9. ch 9

Rylina walked down the corridor to her room, servants and Blood alike trembling in her wake. This was who they had chosen to take her place on the throne? This child who barely knew enough about the power to speak to that walking carpet that followed her. Her door opened with a bang. She stalked through, yanking the opal from her neck as she did so. She threw it across the room, a dull thunk was heard as it hit the wall. She knew it was irrational to blame the jewel, it was only a reflection of it's owner.  
She picked it up, somewhat calmer as her mind began to turn. She knew that the child was not the one in charge. No, she was just a puppet. But for whom? Surely not the beasts, or the man. That only left one person. The woman; Voltaire. A sneer came to her lips as she thought about her. No true member of the Blood would go running around in pants like a man. It was demeaning. A stray thought crossed her mind. It concerned a certainly handsome male she had found. Licking her lips she crossed to her closet. Opening it revealed her clothes as well as the male hanging from shackles made from her opal power. The delightful thing was he had the power in him to break the bonds the second he so wished. Yet he didn't. It puzzled her. Rylina walked down the corridor to her room, servants and Blood alike trembling in her wake. This was who they had chosen to take her place on the throne? This child who barely knew enough about the power to speak to that walking carpet that followed her. Her door opened with a bang. She stalked through, yanking the opal from her neck as she did so. She threw it across the room, a dull thunk was heard as it hit the wall. She knew it was irrational to blame the jewel, it was only a reflection of it's owner.  
Review responses:

Almadynis: Ty for the compliment,and hey, I didn't wait as long to update.

Lady11Occult:Thanks for welcoming me back. I've been a busy little bee...

Chichta:It's warlord princesses, b/c warlord is genderless. Kinda like mankind...

Epona: More is here

Gothis Vampire: Updated

Apricot Jones: Thanks for the catch. I'm w/o a beta, so every little bit helps.

She picked it up, somewhat calmer as her mind began to turn. She knew that the child was not the one in charge. No, she was just a puppet. But for whom? Surely not the beasts, or the man. That only left one person. The woman; Voltaire. A sneer came to her lips as she thought about her. No true member of the Blood would go running around in pants like a man. It was demeaning. A stray thought crossed her mind. It concerned a certainly handsome male she had found. Licking her lips she crossed to her closet. Opening it revealed her clothes as well as the male hanging from shackles made from her opal power. The delightful thing was he had the power in him to break the bonds the second he so wished. Yet he didn't. It puzzled her.  
A plan began forming on her mind. If Wilhelmina could be so easily controlled by an upstart witch, then why not by a male? He lifted his head, though keeping his eyes carefully downcast. He had learned that lesson fast. But she would need him to be anything but submissive for her plan. She humphed, realizing all the hard work she was going to have to undo. Oh, well, she could always awaken his memories if she really wanted to. She grinned looking at him.  
"Nick, my darling, I have plans."

Ú Voltaire sat next to Wilhelmina. They were seated first, so the other members of court could be announced. The doors were ten minutes away from being opened, and to put it simply, she was bored. Wilhelmina on the other hand was beyond nervous. The only thing keeping her calm was KaeAskvi's presence. Wilhelmina sat in her chair like she owned it, however. Her hair was bound in braids wrapped around her head, and her long sapphire skirts were arranged to compliment her. "Don't worry, Wilhelmina. Everything will go fine. The worst that can happen is someone doesn't remember your name. At which point you can yell till you're blue in the face," Voltaire said smiling. Her own dress was a deep purple, cut to show off everything in the right way. The purple seemed to bring out the red in her hair. It fairly glowed next to it. The onyx of her mother's necklace was clearly visible to everyone. "You don't know what they're saying. They say I'm weak-willed, and that you're the real power. They say the reason you have red streaks in your hair is because of the people you've killed. They claim that the Kindred are you minions, and kill those you don't like under the cover of night," Wilhelmina turned towards her. Voltaire rolled her eyes.  
"They probably also say that I eat children for breakfast, run naked through the woods, and married a dragon. Really, Minna, do you believe any of that? It's a load of, excuse my language, bullshit. All that matters is what you think, what you do. You are Queen Wilhelmina, start acting like it," Voltaire told her as the great doors were opened for the nobles to enter. Wilhelmina greeted the door with a straight back, and a fierce look of determination on her back. It was going to be a long night, but they sure as hell would survive.

Dinner had been a nerve racking affair, but it was over now, and they were mingling. Voltaire was speaking with an older province queen. She had lost two of her nieces in the Purge. She didn't seem too affected though. Apparently there had been no loss of love between her and her sister's children. It was nice to know that some of them had gotten it right when replacing the bad Blood. "If I may interrupt?" Rylina said smiling that smile at them. The older women frowned and took her leave. Voltaire raised an eyebrow. Not a good sign.  
"Yes?" Voltaire fairly hissed. Her psychic scent was funny. "I would like to introduce you to a young male. I found him not three weeks ago," Rylina said nearly steering her towards a man who looked a lot like… "Nick?" Voltaire was speechless as she saw him standing there. He turned towards her and smiled. Voltaire threw her arms around him, so happy to see him she didn't think about the fact that they were in court. "By the heavens, I feared that you had been sent elsewhere!" "No, just a different court, I guess," He told her. She grinned at him, and punched his arm. She took his arm and led him over to Wilhelmina, failing to notice the satisfied smile on Rylina's face. 


	10. ch 10

Life's angle: Thanks. I'm glad you like the chapters.  
The Gothic Vampire: I do try to have humor. So rare someone gets it.  
Chichta: This chapter is for you, my violent friend.  
Lady11Occult:Yes you're supposed to know nick. He was in the Beginning. Wayra's brother. And beta is were you get another author to read your work and say, hey stupid so and so is out of character, or your spelling sux... And mostly you just ask. If you really need one, I'm open.  
Apricot Jones: sry bout the set up, but i had five minutes to update and no time to preview. TT 

Voltaire sat in Wilhelmina's room, bewildered. The others were in the same shape she was in. She had begun to question Nick about what he had been doing for the past half a month, and all he had said was that he didn't remember anything after falling through the portal after her. He said it was like looking through a really dense smoke.

"What should we do?" Wilhelmina asked yawning. They really should be in bed. They had a long day ahead of themselves. All the ladies and their lords would be coming to swear futility to Wilhelmina tomorrow. It was going to be a golden opportunity to build bridges and find the next queen.

"I say he's a threat. I'm sorry, Voltaire. But he may be your friend now; who knows what happened to him during that time. Someone could've planted anything in his mind," Daemonar said to her. Voltaire glared at him mad. What he said made sense, but that sure as hell didn't mean it was right.

I hate to say it but I agree with him. He smells funny. Almost like one with the mean sickness.> Blackfury sent her an image of a member of his pack with what she knew was rabies. She didn't care. This was Nick, the one person who understood what it was like to be dropped into this place. Sure she had adjusted well, but hell, who wouldn't given the choice?

"I'll leave. It's clear that I'm a liability with my memories gone. Even with them gone, I understand by what a string you hang by," Nick said nodding towards Wilhelmina, who blushed prettily.

"N…No," Wilhelmina said quietly causing everyone to turn to her. She looked away. "I mean, he may be a weakness, but we should do something to help him get his memories. He won't survive long here with out some kind of guiding hand. I refuse to send him to his death. Would either of you wish to have his blood on your hands? You know what I say is true," Wilhelmina became more confident as she spoke. Daemonar hung his head, and Blackfury whimpered. Voltaire just nodded. It looked like Wilhelmina may not want to be a queen, but the blood ran through her veins.

"We'll work out a solution tomorrow. I feel like I could sleep for a week," Voltaire said stretching and walking outside. Wilhelmina nodded her a goodnight, and Nick bowed before leaving. Voltaire was halfway to her rooms when she felt someone following her. She turned around to find Daemonar leaning against a column. He had one of his daggers out and was cleaning his nails.

"What?" she asked raising an eyebrow. Great. More of this crazed Warlord shit. He looked over at her.  
"I feel it, Voltaire. Feel what you feel for him oozing through the ring. Tell me, how long? How long have you loved him?" Daemonar's eyes were cold. Voltaire wanted to shiver, they remaindered her too much of his uncle.

"What? I've had a crush on him for years. It does mean anything. Are you afraid he's going to take your position with me?" she asked huffing. His insecurity about his status with her was driving her insane. He walked close to her, so close that her face was in his shirt, until she raised it.

"Don't joke with me, hun. You'll find yourself hurt," his voice was quiet, but had a sharp edge to it.

"Is that a threat, Daemonar?" she was mad now. Before it had been an inconvenience, now it was something else. She put her hands on either side of his chest and pushed. "Don't you ever threaten me. I like you, hell, I may even love you, but don't you ever say something you can't back up," her eyes narrowed as he moved a scant few inches.

"Oh, I can back it up. I know how you feel, but Damnit, you're mine, little witch, and I'll die before someone else touches you," he took one of her hands and brought it to his lips. She soften towards him slightly.

"Don't think I've let you off the hook," she said turning back down the hall. He just grinned back at her.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he said to her back, and for some reason she shivered.

Ú

Voltaire woke the next morning feeling better. It was amazing what a good night's sleep could do for you. She was actually looking forward to meeting some of these people. She picked out a wine red tunic and black pants with a matching strip up the side out for the day. They would all be on their best behavior until Wilhelmina picked her inner circle; if, that is she stay long enough to pick one. Voltaire rolled her eyes pulling on her over shined boots. This was all like one giant game of chess. One with too many players, but the principle was the same.

She walked out in the hall, and started down it looking for breakfast. Unfortunately, this court had no stewards at the end of a hall to ask for directions. After about twenty minutes she was quiet lost. She was a bit angry as well. She glared at one of the young ladies hurrying down the hall so hard she stopped, and attempted to blend into the wall.

"Stop it," Voltaire snapped at her. She had long black hair pulled away from her face, and shocking blue eyes. Her yellow dress almost hung off her. She bowed her head and moved reluctantly from the wall.

"I'm sorry, mistress," her voice was soft. Voltaire growled as she realized this was probably from tempering. The young woman eeked and did her best not to move, though she clearly wanted to.

"I'm not your mistress. I'm Voltaire, and I'm lost," Voltaire lifted her chin up intent on doing something to change this. The young woman's eyes refused to meet hers.

"I can take you to breakfast. I'm expected there," her voice grew softer at the last so Voltaire had to strain to hear it. She wondered what this girl feared so much about breakfast. She let her chin go, and motioned for her to take to lead. Voltaire frowned at her state of dress as she followed after her. The yellow dress was in good repair, but at least two sizes too big. She had nice curves, but they were all hidden, and her collar bone stuck out slightly. Someone was starving her. But if that was the case, why was she so afraid of breakfast?

Voltaire found out as the door to the great hall was opened. Rylina was waiting there in ambush. She grabbed the girl by her hair, and threw her onto the floor before the throne. There was a resounding smack as the girl's body hit the floor. She laid there groaning as Rylina stood above her. Voltaire looked around in horror at the others, who acted as though nothing was going on.

"Bitch! Whore! I know why you're late. You were with him again? You were given him your food!" Each sentence was punctured by a swift kick in the abdomen. Voltaire felt her temper flaring. Wilhelmina wasn't there yet, and neither was Daemonar. She knew that neither would stand for it, so she sure as hell wasn't. Rylina pulled the girl up by her shoulders, and reached back intent on hitting her. Voltaire had the oddest feeling as she reached over and grabbed the other woman's arm. It was like she was no longer part of her body. She was watching the events from afar. Rylina whirled around to face her in shock. Rage had contoured her mildly pretty face into a disgusting mask.

"How dare you, wench! I am punishing my servant for her misdeeds! This is not a matter that concerns anyone else," Rylina was in such a rage that she was breathing through her nose like a horse. The others in the room turned at her words to look at Voltaire.

"Misdeeds? You yell at her for giving another food, yet she looks like she herself hasn't had any in days! I bet, if she was giving him of he was worse off than she was!" Voltaire had yet to loosen her grip on the other. The young was doing her best to lifted herself off the floor.

"Are you questioning the treatment of my servants?" Rylina snarled. Why was no one doing anything about this rogue witch? She maybe powerful, but hell, that's never stopped males before. She began to struggle in Voltaire's grip.

"I'm doing much more than questioning how you treat them," Voltaire began ready to let her have a piece of her mind. Luckily for Rylina, Wilhelmina choose that moment to walk in. Rylina immediately saw a way out of this situation.

"My Queen, will you call off your hound?" Rylina asked so angry she failed to hide the contempt in her voice. Wilhelmina blinked a few times taking the scene in.

"Voltaire unhand her at once," as soon as the words were spoken Voltaire released the other, Rylina stumbling a few steps as she was. Voltaire went to the young girl who had managed to get herself into sitting position. She looked dazed and near tears.

"Are you alright?" Voltaire asked, not caring what it was that Rylina was telling Wilhelmina. She knew Minna wouldn't be hoodwinked by her. The girl let the tears go as she was asked.

"Please, please, I'm alright," she said sobbing. She latched onto Voltaire with desperation.

"What's your name?" Voltaire began placing her hands on either side of the girl's head. She needed to know if there were any internal injuries.

"Huathe," came the stuttered response. Voltaire hnned, feeling the 'boys' heading her way. She rolled her eyes as she finished checking, there was nothing worse than a few bruised ribs. She helped the girl rise, just as Daemonar entered. She gave him one look, and he was there, gently taking the girl into his arms.

"Voltaire," she turned as she heard Wilhelmina call her name. She knew she as more likely in some kind of trouble. "I know that you are at times ignorant of the way this court works, however that does not excuse you. Rylina was in her rights as far as punishing her servant goes. It matters not whether we agree with her methods," Voltaire opened her mouth clearly having plenty to say on that issue. "Luckily, Rylina has agreed to forgive the offense, and even offers you the girl if you are so concerned about her." Voltaire glared over at Rylina, who was smiling smugly. How could these people just let this happen? Just turn the other way? True she held no illusions about people, but she wanted to hope that someone out there would have to do something. Frustrated, she sighed.

"Thanks. I hope you'll ignore the outburst. I tend to get that way when people beat the shit out of others for no apparent reason," Voltaire said leaving all thought of food gone.


	11. Ch 11

a/n: I'm sorry it took so long to update. I just so busy.. . but I did eventually...

Voltaire stalked down the hall, failing to notice the small limping figure behind her until she was almost to her room. She frowned at Hauthe, the other shrinking back into the wall. Immediately regretting this, she sighed.  
"I'm sorry Hauthe. Rylina just made me so mad. And the fact that someone would treat another person like that…," Voltaire trailed off, shaking her head. Hauthe moved toward her and placed her hand softly on the other's arm. Her intense blue eyes bore into Voltaire's.  
"To her I am not a person. I am property, like a chair or a candle. But, we will not talk of such things, Mistress. We need to get you dressed for the ceremonies," Hauthe said opening the door to Voltaire's room, and ignoring her protest of the calling of her as mistress. No sooner had she opened the door than 'Fury came flying out at her. He landed on her and barred his teeth looking at her. No one would get in his Lady's room without her there.

"Blackfury!" Voltaire exclaimed pulling him off her. He looked lost and greatly confused. "This is Hauthe, she's going to be my….," it was Voltaire's turn to look confused. What exactly did Hauthe do? Hauthe solved this problem, however.

"Bodyservant. And if I may say so, we need her changed into something more suitable for her station," Hauthe seemed to take nearly being mauled by a wolf in stride. She didn't even wince despite her injuries. Voltaire made a note to tell the healer to come have a look at her. She walked into the room, and threw open the wardrobe. Her eyes lit up like a kid in a candy shop. Voltaire looked down at Blackfury.  
I'll explain later. She told him. She was slightly worried. The only other person she had seen look at clothes like that had been her crazy aunt. She didn't need a crazy in her service.

Voltaire stood next to Wilhelmina half an hour later. It had taken less time than she thought for Hauthe to decide what she was wearing. She was glad that that duty had been lifted from her shoulders. She was a comfort girl. That meant if it felt good it would be worn. She played with the cuffs on her three-quarter-lengths jacket. It was made of the finest black velvet, silver along the cuffs and hem, as well as buttons that appeared to be the end of feathers. A large replica of a silver firebird hugging her back completed the jacket. It hung open over a silver corset embroidered with black vines. Simple black trousers tucked into silver boots that ran clean up her thighs and laced in black. The sword belt she wore was a bright red. It matched the color of her hair, which Hauthe had managed to do something beautiful to. Thousands of tiny braids ran from her temple into a larger French braid in solid red and blonde. Red gloves cut off at the wrist, but seemed to disappear into the jacket.

"I'm so nervous, Voltaire. What if the Blood rejects me? I've been away for so long…," Wilhelmina said for the millionth time. She was lovely in a gown made in four shades of blue. It was a frilly master piece that would've made her feel like a demented version of little bo-peep. The gloves she wore were made of soft blue lace. The skirt itself was so thick and layered, that she wonder how she could move her feet let alone walk. Her hair was curled softly around her face, pulled back enough it wouldn't fall in her face.

"It'll be fine, Mina. The only one who should be worried about their acceptance is me. And, frankly, I could care less," Voltaire told her as Daemonar entered. His black hair was held back in a white ribbon, that contrasted sharply with the black of his full length coat. Everything he wore was black; from the military shined boots to the silk shirt. The only swath of color besides his ribbon was the gold of his belt. Even his wings had a slight black dusting.  
"I see why you took Hauthe in. Her taste is wonderful," Daemonar said grinning as he pulled her close. He leaned in, but Voltaire's imagination was at work. She slid her hands along the back of his coat, curious as to how his wings fit into the coat. He gave a small grunt of surprise and pulled back, as her hands touched flesh. It seemed the coat was silted in the back for his wings. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." Voltaire raised an eyebrow.  
"And why not?" She asked playing with the wing joints that connected to his back. His response was immediate. He stepped away from her, taking several deep breaths. He sent her a thread of gray thought. It's very…sensitive… She blushed slightly as Blackfury entered on the heels of the old steward. He bobbed his head slightly as he waved them inside. Voltaire quickly straitened her clothes and took a deep breath. Once Wilhelmina was bound to the land time would be short. Especially if the sickness of the land took hold.

HeLl HaVe No FuRy LiKe A wO...:I try to make sure that Voltaire is just like a normal person stuck in their world. I thank you for your encouragement.

Silveni Jinx :Guess I fed your addiction...

Anya shojo:I wish I could tell you the nswers, but that would give the entire fic away. and then were would we be?

kesterel2106:Rylina was effected in the purge. I won't tell you how yet. And as for the servant thing, I was trying to create a court that had lost all sense of what being a member of the Blood was.

Mia: Thank you for your review.

Apricot Jones: Thank you for fixing my langauge issue...Violence is nice, and I'm glad you enjoyed it.

Lady11Occult:Thanks for your suggestion, and I love ass kicking Voltaire alot myself.

chicita:Glad you liked your chapter, and here's the update.


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